


Perfection

by artandatrocity



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Eating Disorders, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 20:17:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artandatrocity/pseuds/artandatrocity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey suffers from severe body image issues and develops an eating disorder. Though Mikey attempts to hide his increasing exhaustion and irritability, Ray becomes concerned by the noticeable change in his band mate's behavior.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfection

Mikey stood naked before the dingy hotel mirror. He ran a calloused hand down over the pale flesh of his torso, face twisting in disgust. The hand reached his hip and continued sliding, waves of nausea threatening to crash over the rocky edge of his emotions at any moment. His hand again dropped to hang limply at his side. Staring hard at his reflection, Mikey counted the things wrong with his body, one by one. There was that puff around his waistline; the grotesque fat that pouched out over the waistband of his jeans. Turning sideways he took in the fat ass that plagued his whole family. Those hips stuck out funny and uneven. Raising his right hand he touched his chest. Goddamn those saggy man boobs.

The list went on and on, rattling around in Mikey's head. He felt increasingly sickened by himself the longer he stood there, but he couldn't look away. It was like he needed to continue reassuring himself that his choice held valid reasons. Really, it wasn't that bad, not eating. After a couple of days he wasn't even really hungry anymore. Yeah, being tired almost all the time sucked, but he still functioned and kept up energy at shows. All he had to do was make sure that he got to sleep as much as possible. Nothing felt more important than making sure these rolls disappeared.

Suddenly Mikey heard footsteps in the hallway. “Shit,” he thought, “Ray must be coming back to the room,” which made sense, since there was only about an hour left before sound check for that night’s show. Quickly Mikey grabbed his clothes off the bed and dashed for the bathroom. Seconds later the door creaked open and Ray's voice call out,

"Hey Mikes, you in here?"

Mikey replied "Yeah, in the bathroom."

"Well hurry your ass up, Gerard wants us on the bus in 20 minutes." came Ray's voice again, obviously irritated with the fact that he was going to be rushed, too.

What the hell? Mikey thought. They didn't HAVE to be at the venue for at least 45 minutes. It was a 5 minute fucking drive. But whatever, he didn't have the energy to fight Gerard on the matter tonight. Mikey easily slipped the skinny black jeans up his legs and pulled the form fitting shirt back on. Why did everyone insist he dress like this, he hated showing off his body. It’s not like he had anything to be proud of.

Stepping out of the bathroom he was greeted by a boxer-clad Ray. Mikey swept his eyes over the other man's body. Now THERE was a guy who had something to show off. Ray was thick, but not fat- more muscle and bone than anything else. Tanned and solid, Ray was a sight to behold. Jealousy raged through Mikey, quickly replaced by shame. Why should he begrudge Ray for being beautiful? It wasn't Ray's fault that Mikey was so.... not up to par.

Mikey shook his head in an attempt to return back to earth, tearing his eyes away from Ray before the older man turned back around, now fully dressed. Ray gave Mikey a once over before wondering aloud,

"Are you sure you're ready? You don't have on any makeup and it looks like you haven't even touched your hair today. Gerard is gonna take one look at you and make you turn right around and come back to fix that if you don't take care of it now. I know you know that."

"Fine," Mikey grumbled, pivoting on the spot and heading back into the bathroom. He took off his glasses and quickly smudged on some black eyeliner, then proceeded to rub a little gel into his hair. After replacing the glasses he grabbed a jacket off a hanger in the tiny closet and joined Ray by the door. Ray smiled approvingly.

"Much better. Now Gerard'll only yell at you, rather than shoot you." A grin spread across Ray's face and his tone contained a certain amount of playfulness. All the same, Mikey winced. An amount of truth laced Ray's words, because Gerard wasn't going to be very happy that more time wasn’t devoted to personal appearance. Mikey resisted the urge to let out a sarastic chuckle. If only Gerard knew just how much time and energy he spent on his appearance.

The two men rushed out the hotel double doors towards the bus, bracing themselves against the chilly wind whipping around. A disapproving Gerard greeted them at the bottom of the steps to the vehicle, arms crossed and scowling.

"Dammit you two, we should've been out of here 10 minutes ago. What the hell were you doing?"

"I was up in our room blowing your brother." Ray said simply.

Gerard's mouth dropped open in shock.

Ray laughed heartily, 

"Jesus, Gerard, I'm kidding. Lighten up. Mikey just needed to freshen up a little."

Now Gerard's gaze fell upon Mikey. The venomous look on his face only intensified.

"'A little' is the key phrase there, isn't it?" he spat.

Now it was Mikey's turn to scowl.

"Gerard, what do you care how I look? Everyone's eyes are always glued on you and Frank's little 'performances,’ anyway."

At this Gerard gave a huff and turned sharply to head into the bus. Ray laughed again and slapped Mikey lightly on the back. "Good one, man" he said before following Gerard into the warmth of the bus. Mikey swayed a little from the impactful force of Ray's playful action before following suit. He really was getting weaker.

His bass felt heavier this night, and it took all the might that Mikey could muster simply to stay upright with the instrument slung over his shoulder. There certainly wasn't going to be anything special about his performance this time around.

Mikey mindlessly plucked at the strings. What was the point of testing it out? One of the roadies already tuned it for him. He glanced over towards the other side of the stage. Gerard stood with Frank, flirting shamelessly. Quickly Mikey moved his gaze to Bob, sitting behind the drum set. Anything beat watching his brother look at someone with that much obvious lust in his eyes, especially when that someone was, well, Frank. Shaking his head as though trying to knock such thoughts out of his mind, Mikey's eyes turned to Ray. Ray bent over an amp, trying to tweak something. A grin spread across Mikey's face; Ray was so anal about how his guitar sounded and never trusted the roadies to get it right.

The grin faded as Mikey raked his eyes over Ray's body. His proportions were just right; so well balanced. Ray's butt set perfectly above his hips, his torso the correct length and width to be attached to those long meaty legs, shoulders broad but fitting, and a head crowned so becomingly with that ( admittedly sometimes ridiculous) afro. 

Mikey blinked and returned to earth with a thud as he heard the stage manager's voice,

"We're letting people through the doors in 5 minutes. Time to get off stage!"

He sighed and replaced the bass on its stand. Tonight promised to be just as long, if not longer, than so many others before it.

*****

It was all the same; screaming fans, intense heat radiating from all corners of the stage, fingers gliding over his bass from muscle memory. Nothing seemed special, nothing proved extraordinary, he just found more time to space out and wait for the whole thing to be over.

Now back on their bus for the short return drive to the hotel, Mikey was collapsed by himself on the edge of the couch. Frank and Gerard talked quietly between themselves in a corner somewhere, Bob was in the bathroom, and Ray situated himself on the other end of the couch before spacing out. Mikey felt exhausted- even a bland performance wiped him out these days. All he could think of was crawling into bed and getting a few extra hours of sleep while the guys went out for dinner. Not like he was going to eat anything if he went with them, anyway.

He felt the bus shudder to a stop. They must be back in the parking lot, he guessed. Wordlessly Mikey rose from the couch, piling out the door to head towards their respective rooms. The others chatted, deciding what to do about food after they showered and put on some clean(er) clothes. Mikey stayed out of the conversation, hurrying ahead of them to get into his and Ray's room first.

Upon reaching room #216 Mikey jammed his key card into the little slot above the door handle. He hated how patient you had to be, waiting for the little green light to click on and everything before you could even open the door- fucking hotels and their security. As soon as it opened, he sped inside and fled to the intimate security of the bathroom.

His clothes lay in a heap on the tiled floor when Mikey heard Ray enter the room. Mikey turned on the shower, twisting the handle so that the water beat down as hot as possible. The hot water proved relaxing and welcoming, raining down onto the narrow frame of its recipient. Well, “narrow” to the sane world, rather than to the mind of the owner of said body. Much as he wanted to enjoy the shower and the feeling of becoming clean after an hour on an unbearably hot stage, Mikey couldn't stand to stay in the tub for too long. Touching his body simply to rub a washcloth over it was almost more than he could bear. He hated touching himself in any way. Just the sight of his skin was more than he liked to take in; why else would he so frequently wear a hoodie or jacket?

In an insufficient 5 minutes, Mikey stepped out of the shower and onto the fluffy mat beside the tub. He groped for his glasses, which were essentially useless for being so fogged up. White towel wrapped around his waist, Mikey opened the door and stepped into the cooler air of the main room. After making a beeline for his suitcase in an effort to get into his pajamas as quickly as possible, Mikey shimmied into his boxers and a pair flannel pants, making sure not to take off the towel until both were securely around his waist. A Fall Out Boy t-shirt was tugged unceremoniously over his head, after which Mikey flung himself on top of the bed’s comforter, sighing as he leaned back into the pillows.

Ray, meanwhile, had been sitting on his bed flipping through a book, waiting for Mikey to surrender the shower. He watched curiously as Mikey dressed himself at an unnaturally quick pace. Odd; until recently he never saw the younger boy in such a hurry to cover up. It wasn't like Ray hadn't seen all of him on previous occasions. “Such a pity,” Ray thought, since Mikey's body wasn't exactly a bad sight to take in.

Forcing himself back into reality, Ray put down his book and stood up.

"Hey Mikey, the rest of us figured we'd go to that Chinese place a couple of blocks down the road. You want to join us?"

Mikey felt his stomach grumble a little, and he stifled the urge to give in to it.

"No thanks," he replied "I think I'll stay here and get some extra sleep."

Mikey's eyes closed as he nestled back further into the soft pillows. When he opened his eyes, he saw Ray looking at him curiously.

"What?" Mikey inquired.

Ray shook his head a little before answering.

"Oh, nothing. Just, you've been sleeping a lot lately. That's all. Are you feeling ok?"

“No, I feel like dying every time I look in a mirror or even down at my lap, and I'm hungry. I feel like shit.” thought Mikey, but he only replied,

"I'm fine."

"Ok" Ray said tentatively, heading for the bathroom. Before shutting the door all the way he turned around to look at Mikey again and saying

"You know, you don't need to listen to Gerard's bullshit about how you look. It's not his business." He paused. "Besides," Ray continued, "you always look just fine no matter what you do."

Mikey smiled weakly.

"Thanks, Ray. I don't really listen to him, anyway. He just thinks I do."

Ray laughed, closing the bathroom door behind him. Mikey soon heard the sound of running water. He pulled one of the blankets around him and closed his eyes again. The consistent noise of the water was soothing and quickly lulled him into sleep. When Ray came out, re-dressed, and left to meet the other 3 guys, Mikey didn't even stir. 

Before he left, Ray allowed himself to take a good look at the sleeping man in the other bed. Even with the blanket around Mikey, Ray could tell that something was different about the body it concealed. Just in the past week or two, he noticed that Mikey seemed to be losing a significant amount of weight. That couldn't be healthy, he figured, since the man was so skinny already. But he didn't want the others to think he was worrying for nothing, so Ray never brought it up; though if it kept going on much longer, he was going to have to say something. He couldn't stand the thought of beautiful Mikey wasting away.

A few hours later found Mikey lying in his bed, woken from his sound sleep, eyes flying open at the sound of the hotel room door opening. Apparently, Ray returned from his outing with the guys. Mikey glanced over at the nearby alarm clock. Even without his glasses, the red numbers glared back at him large and thoroughly readable. 1:30 am? What the fuck had they been doing all this time?

The heavy grunt that escaped Ray as he fell into his bed answered Mikey's question. They'd been at a bar, of course. What else would they have done? Mikey rubbed at his eyes. Now that he awoke it was going to take a couple of minutes for him to fall back to sleep, especially if Ray decided to move around anymore. Sure enough, through the darkness Mikey heard Ray rise and begin to clumsily undress. He observed as the older man turned on the bathroom light, the harsh rays illuminating the outline of Ray's body before the door shut and Mikey was again enveloped by the dark of the night. 

The toilet flushed and the sink ran before the door opened once more, the light already turned off. Sounds of Ray stumbling back in Mikey's direction cued the sandy haired boy to again close his eyes and get ready to attempt feigning sleep. Then the footsteps stopped, and Mikey felt the left side of his bed drop. Within moments, Mikey felt Ray's body very, very close to his own. “Well,” he thought, “this is awkward… and kind of annoying.” Deciding this situation needed rectifying, Mikey spoke,

"Ray. Come on. Get out of my bed. I want to sleep."

Ray giggled,

"Oh Mikey. You sleep too much."

Though Ray couldn't see it, Mikey scowled.

"Yeah, well you drink too much." came his retort.

Ray full out laughed this time.

"Whatever." His voice then turned to a more serious, if slightly slurred tone, "Why don't you come out with us anymore?"

Mikey sighed.

"I told you. I'm just tired," he paused, "which is why you should get out of my bed and let me sleep."

He felt Ray scoot closer to him. Mikey winced slightly as he felt Ray's alcohol drenched breath on the back of his neck. 

"We miss you, you know." 

A long silence followed this statement until Ray felt it necessary to add,

"I miss you."

Involuntarily, Mikey snorted,

"You're drunk. Shut up and go to bed."

But Ray didn't leave. Instead he curled even closer into Mikey’s back, resting his strong chin on Mikey's bony shoulder. The action made Mikey shiver. Then he felt Ray's hand find its way to Mikey's hip, and the fingers proceeded to rub up and down the cloth of the younger man's boxers. By now the younger man was physically cringing. Ray moved the hand upward to stroke Mikey's entire side, and Mikey began shivering unpleasantly.

The same thought ran through Mikey's head over and over. "Don't touch me. Please. Don't touch me." But somehow, the actual words refused to leave his mouth, because he was too paralyzed from the shock of Ray's actions. Still, knowing someone was actually touching him, feeling the flesh that repulsed him so much... It was more than he thought he could take for too long. 

It was when Ray's hand began to move under the waistband of Mikey's underwear that the bassist completely lost it. Mikey knew he wasn't aroused at all; his mind focused solely on being disgusted. Fuck, he was so exhausted. Regardless of his lack of energy, Mikey found himself jumping out bed and hitting the lamp so that it turned on. He whirled around to stare at Ray, intense anger flooding his eyes. Though his rational mind realized that raising his voice wasn’t the best plan, Mikey screeched

"RAY. Get. In. Your. Own. Bed."

When Ray made no sign of movement, Mikey screamed,

"NOW!"

Metaphorical tail tucked between his legs, Ray slunk out of Mikey's bed and into his own. Mikey observed as Ray pulled the covers high up around his neck and turned towards the wall, leaving only a poofy afro visible. Sitting back on his bed, Mikey switched off the lamp and lay back down. Hopefully, he thought, no one important heard any of that and, come morning, Ray wouldn't remember a thing.

*****

Morning sunlight poured through their hotel windows, the curtains of which were left open the night before. Mikey yawned, stretched and twisted his body to look at the alarm clock on the dresser. Damn, 5:30am. He was up before the alarm, again. “Oh well,” he thought, since there really wasn’t any hope that he’d fall back asleep. Besides, maybe if he got up now there was a chance that he’d get to the bus early enough to redeem himself somewhat with Gerard. After one more big stretch, Mikey crawled out from between the mussed sheets and stumbled towards the bathroom.

Next thing Mikey knew, there was a large thud as his entire body made contact with the heavy wooden door leading to the bathroom, and a soft crash when he crumpled to the carpeted floor. He lay there for a few moments, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. Apparently, someone was already in the bathroom and the door was shut, ok, he got that much figured out. Also, he figured that he should crawl back into bed before anyone noticed he was stupid enough to run into a closed door.

Regaining some shred of dignity, Mikey hoisted himself up off the floor and shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it a bit. Oh man, his head hurt so badly. Exhaustion and confusion overcame his foggy mind and he fell backwards onto a bed, not knowing whose it was. Goddamn, the ibuprofen was in the bathroom on the sink counter. “Could whoever is in there PLEASE come out soon?” he begged silently.  
Who was it anyway? Mikey’s mind swam. “Ok,” he thought, “think hard, think hard, who are you sharing a room with? Who do you almost always share a room with? Gerard? No, no that wasn’t it. Frank and Gerard were next door. Bob always got his own room. So it must be Ray.”

“Oh God,” Mikey thought, “Ray. Shit.” Memories from the previous night flooded back. Ray came back drunk, climbed into his bed, and then….. oh no. Mikey considered the situation, and realized that he really wasn’t in a good position to go banging on the door demanding the ibuprofen, like he normally would have.

He panicked. There was no conceivable way that he could pack up fast and head for the bus, ‘cause some of his stuff still sat in the bathroom. Maybe it was worthwhile to just sacrifice those few stray items to the hotel gods, for the sake of delaying intense awkwardness? This seemed like a viable option. “Wait,” Mikey thought, he couldn’t do that. His unicorn pin lay next to his face wash on the countertop, and like hell he was going to lose that.

Still, Mikey started frantically throwing clothes and other things into his bag. Quickly, he pulled on a pair of jeans over his boxers, and opted to just walk out of the hotel in the shirt that he wore to bed the previous evening. Mikey cringed slightly, but there wasn’t time to change more. He wanted to dart into the bathroom when Ray came out, grab his things, stuff them into his suitcase, and dash to the bus. Ray’s clothes and other articles were strewn all over the room; it would take him a few minutes to pack them up before he could possibly follow Mikey.

Seconds after tossing the last sock into his drawstring laundry bag, the door to the bathroom opened and Ray walked out. The older man was already dressed, and having spent the time, a lot cleaner looking than Mikey. As soon as Ray stepped past the door frame, Mikey bolted into the tiny room, slamming the door quickly behind him. In a little over a minute, he used the facilities, gathered all of his belongings off the counter and out of the shower, and was out the door again into the main room.

He rushed past Ray to where his bags sat on the bed, shoving things into any crevice of space left. Mikey twitched; he could feel Ray’s eyes burning into his back. The bassist’s eyes scanned the room and he felt a little relieved. It seemed as though Ray was taking his sweet time in getting packed up, meaning Mikey could savor a few more minutes without him once secluded on the bus.

All packed up, Mikey seized his luggage and practically flew out of the room, rushing down the hallway. He didn't bother to wait for the elevator, instead opting to run down the stairs, out the hotel double doors, and fling himself onto the waiting bus as soon as the driver opened the door. Once safely inside, Mikey breathed a sigh of relief. He was the first one on this morning, so he decided to use this time to set down the bags near his bunk and lay back down.

“Pity,” he thought, “these aren't nearly as comfortable as a hotel bed.” But, he decided, it was exceedingly more pleasant at the present time. Mikey closed the curtain, blocking out all light, and shut his eyes, ready to fall back asleep. In fact, he did fall into a slightly restless sleep for about 30 minutes until the opening and closing bus door roused him. He sighed, since that meant the end of his rest for awhile, no matter who it was.

Sure enough, he soon heard Gerard’s voice,

“Hey Mikes, driver said you were here already.”

Mikey groaned quietly before replying,

“Yeah, Gerard, I’m in my bunk.”

All too soon, the curtain opened, leaving Mikey to shrink back from the light and looming presence of Gerard’s face. Gerard looked as though he was still very much tired, but obviously somewhat pleased. He grinned at his little brother,

“Wow, I can’t believe it, I’m proud of you. Since when are you first on the bus in the morning?”

“Since today, I guess” Mikey lamely retorted.

Now Gerard’s face changed, taking on a more concerned look. Mikey knew what was coming next before the words ever left his brother’s mouth,

“So, it has nothing to do with what happened with you and Ray last night? Whatever it was.”

Mikey flinched.

“I was hoping you hadn’t heard that.”

“Didn’t hear it?” Gerard almost sounded amused. “Fuck, Mikey, Frank and I were in the next room, we shared a wall. How could we NOT have heard?”

Mikey decided that maybe now wasn’t the time to bring up the muffled moans HE heard through the wall as he was drifting off to sleep last night. Instead he guessed it was time to lie,

“It was nothing,” Mikey crossed his fingers behind his back, “Ray was just drunk and didn’t know what he was doing. And I was tired, so I got pissed off.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow. So Mikey continued,

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re my little brother. So, I worry about you. It’s my job. Plus it’s also my job to worry when I think two members of my band are having issues.”

“I’m not the one fucking another member of your band,” Mikey thought maliciously, again opting not to actually say it.

Mikey breathed another long sigh,

“It’s fine, Gee, don’t worry. Can I sleep again now?

“You sure have been sleeping a lot. Sure you’re ok?”

Now Mikey felt himself getting somewhat mad and defensive. In a voice a little louder than he meant to use, Mikey replied,

“I’m FINE. God, just because I get tired after shows, does something HAVE to be wrong with me.”

Gerard looked a little hurt at these words,

“I just…”

Mikey cut him off,

“I’m fine. Now leave me alone.”

Slamming the curtain shut again, Mikey lay back down in his bunk. He heard some shuffling around as Gerard got his stuff in place, then the door closed and Mikey, again, was alone. At some point he heard the bus door open and close a few more times, but it seemed as though Gerard was telling the guys not to bother Mikey, because no one came back to the bunks. “Thank God,” Mikey thought, “finally, Gerard is being helpful, as opposed to meddling where he doesn't need to.”

Mikey eased himself into sleep, waking a few hours later to find that they were again on the road. The bus rattled along while Mikey lay in his dark bunk, trying to get himself conscious enough to climb down and rejoin the living. He couldn’t avoid them forever, and it was probably better to get back into things before having to get off the bus for another show in a couple of hours. Disappearing would only make the situation increasingly awkward and bring about more questions as to why they hadn’t seen him all day; there was no need for that.

Before he could will himself to get up, Mikey heard a muffled noise below him. Argh, there was that damn lack of memory hitting him again. Who had the bunk beneath him? Mikey felt his cheeks redden from embarrassment, even though no one could see him. It was truly sad that he couldn’t remember this certain fact, as the sleeping arrangements hadn’t changed in an eon.

Suddenly it hit him-- Ray, duh. That was only the way beds were arranged since the very first tour. But what was it that he heard now? Listening harder, Mikey almost stopped breathing in order to make out the noise. With a certain amount of puzzlement and shock, he realized Ray was crying. What? That didn’t make any sense-- Ray never cried, he was always the strong one. What set him off?

Mikey decided that he could do nothing but ignore it, so he climbed out of his bunk and headed for the door. But just before his hand clutched the knob, he heard a quavering voice,

“Mikey?”

It was Ray, of course. The voice continued, cracking and shaky,

“Mikey? Can I talk to you?”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story six years and 3 computers ago, but I know the final chapters are buried somewhere on one of two external hard drives. If I can't locate them, perhaps I'll rewrite the ending just for the nostalgic fun of it.


End file.
